


panacea for the poison

by neckbrace



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Descriptions of Pain, Dreams and Nightmares, Early Reaper, M/M, Self-Doubt, Sexual Tension, Side Effects, Soldier Enhancement Program
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-19
Updated: 2018-04-19
Packaged: 2019-04-24 20:12:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,267
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14362761
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/neckbrace/pseuds/neckbrace
Summary: This much they knew: the program was changing both of them. To what extent, however, Gabriel intended to keep hidden.That was his first mistake.





	panacea for the poison

In open fields and dark mornings, Jack Morrison graced his dreams. His hopeful smile and grin too wide, unabashed in Gabriel's presence, would always find him here. His projection a lively thing, authentic, voice patterns following an algorithm in Gabriel's head, his smirks and creases and breaths all memorized, memorialized here.

He had noted every scar, every new healing wound and fresh bruise. Jack was ever-changing-- reckless enough to scratch and wear his form with each mission, ambitious enough to adapt to it. Each passing day saw a change in both of them, however subtle, as the doses and injections rewired and reprogrammed. Their forms as machines, training to protect, hoping to fill the gaps in what was needed. Hoping was the key word.

At the end of the day, Gabriel's subconscious does inventory on Jack, taking each nook and cranny to heart. That night, Jack came back to their quarters late. He had been assigned more reps as a half-assed prescription for the full-body aching. Medical told him his body had more capability than it knew what to do with, and his activity had to match. _Input and output levels, she told me,_ Jack had scoffed. _Like I’m a goddamn machine. Can you believe that shit?_

Ever since their program took an observable effect-- after the months of training, preparation, awaiting their imminent transformation-- the reality truly sunk in for them, Jack especially. There was no going back. Whatever happened to their bodies was a fate they had signed away months and months ago. When he returned that night, Jack was noticeably bearing two new bruises: another at his ankle, and a new one at his forearm. His hair splayed, heavy with sweat, sticking to his forehead here and there. Flushed red. Breathing deep. Exhausted.

The Jack he sees in the windy field is the same. He is tired, worn, pliant from the hours of draining energy. He is seated in the tall grass, absently threading two blades together, tying knots. Gabriel tries to lock their eyes, but he cannot grab Jack's focus from such a distance. In long strides, he calls out to him, crisp night air turning more humid as he approached. He watches the warm vapor trail of his own breath fade out at an unnatural rate. Jack is connecting more blades, making a long string.

"Jack," Gabriel tries, feeling the word fall from his mouth like water. Each step towards Jack makes the air stickier, thicker, feeling the atmosphere shift. The breeze falls stagnant. Gabriel swears he can hear the incessant hum of cicadas begin, vibrating bolder and fuller in the back of his skull.

Gabriel wants his attention more and more. This is not the Jack he knows, despite him bearing today's appearance, for he refuses to meet his eyes. He keeps himself busied at his task, paying no mind towards Gabriel practically swimming towards him through clouds and bog.

"Please," Gabriel all but begs, his mouth filling with the thick vapor before he can get the sound out. He can make out the bruises now, among Jack's feet curled in the lush summer earth, across his arms occupied with threading and tying. They stick out against his glistening skin, marks of a flash of pain, of a miscalculation. All while Jack logically, delicately carries out his work. Efficient and focused.

Gabriel is sinking into the grass, melding into a swamp. Frogs sing in his throat. Fireflies dance in his peripheral as he is swallowed with every inevitable step. His pace is forced slower, preventing him from approaching Jack as he so much desires. It is the only thing left on Gabriel's mind.

He has sunken waist-deep now, looking up at Jack's form with the most reverence he can muster. Jack ties the last knot, enclosing the braided grass loop around his wrist. He admires his work for a beat, before lifting his arm to face Gabriel. His heart swells. The blades of grass within it aren't even the same shade of green, some verging on death.

When Jack locks their eyes together, Gabriel stops sinking. His arms pat into the earth around him, checking for an equal resistance, while ensuring their gaze remains unbroken. He hangs suspended at his middle, awaiting his word. Jack is glowing. Fireflies perch at his feet, rest on his knees. A shy smile turns up at Jack's corners. He holds up his wrist with elevated urgency. His grass bracelet is wound tight around his flesh.

"What do you think?" Jack asks. The voice is phasing from all directions. Gabriel becomes lucidly aware of this not being real, yet is too tired to fight out of it. Jack is still gazing his eyes deep into him, through him. "Do you like it?"

Jack is clearly tentative, seeking his approval. Yet in his process, remained confident and calculated. He wants Gabriel to see his potential, more than anything.

"Yeah," Gabriel attempts to respond, but nothing comes out again. His lungs are two ponds, brimming with algae. His throat is dense with fog.

Since he can't hear him, Jack starts to tilt his head doubtfully towards his wrist. His arm starts to drop ever so slightly. Jack is transparent in the way he questions its legitimacy now. Gabriel rapidly shakes his head.

"I do," Gabriel calls again, frustrated with the syrupy force that muffles him. He shrugs against it, trying to fight his shackles of grime. "I mean it, Jack." Nothing.

Jack breaks the eye contact. Gabriel feels his limbs dip beneath the chilling, slimy earth again. He claws his hands into the muck, attempting to resist the pull with equal pressure. His fingers then begin to sink too, enveloped by thick black morass, wet concrete. The futility of his movements starts to dawn on him, filling him with the hopeless thought of failing Jack when he needed him most.

“Listen to me,” Gabriel pleads, giving up as his mouth inaudibly forms the words.

Gabriel stops resisting, but still watches Jack as he descends. His face is stoic and unmoved, eyes boring holes into the place on his wrist where the loop of grass knots had been. Now, it was sinking into his skin. The tangle of green melds with Jack's flesh, taking on a new form. Along the ring, the absent plants are replaced with a pale yet undeniable scar along his veins. It wraps like a snake, stopping right before it cuts into Jack's palm. His determined gaze is still unfazed as he, almost expectedly, watches it happen to himself.

Before Gabriel's view of Jack is enveloped by mire, he can only focus on the disconnect in Jack's eyes as they watch his own flesh. Gabriel's last thought resonates in dark echoes.

_That scar is my fault._

Gabriel actively tries not to breathe anymore, not wanting anything else clouding his lungs. Even when he is completely beneath the surface, he still keeps sinking. His arms shake with the absence of oxygen. He can't keep this up. It's the end.

He opens his eyes to meet darkness, sputtering and coughing. His shaking arms dash palm-flat around his surroundings, patting down the rough stitches of old linens. Standard issue. Itchy and miserable, comforting normalcy. Gabriel catches his breath at that, but cannot stop shaking, shivering. He inhales as deep as possible. Even the stuffy air of their quarters with no windows is a gift.

A resounding creak of the mattress above him indicates that he woke up Jack too. He meets a crash of guilt for interrupting Jack’s already limited sleeping hours, yet relief for his close, definite presence. Overwhelmed with the desire to see his face, Gabriel eagerly pulls himself up the ladder to Jack's bunk.

Jack is laying flat on his back, with the back of his hand resting on his forehead as if he's had a fever. He glances over at Gabriel half-lidded. Squinting like the aches made it harder to see.

"Gabe? I heard you coughing," Jack croaks, and his physical pain is undeniable in his voice.

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm okay," Gabriel answers hushedly. "Sorry, I really didn't want to wake you."

Jack shrugs, almost invisible, trying not to move most of his body. His position is unchanged, though his eyes briefly dart to the popcorn ceiling, unable to hold eye contact. Gabriel figures his own gaze might be a little more intense than normal. "S'fine."

They are silent for a moment. Both wanting to read each other's conditions through silent language to spare the energy and pain demanded of speaking.

Gabriel is fixated on Jack's wrist. Though he knows he had been dreaming, he is haunted by his image of Jack, once always his present form, now damaged by his own head and his own mistakes. He reaches to turn over and inspect Jack's resting hand, which is languidly compliant.

Jack snorts at the motion. "What?"

"Oh. Had a bad dream," Gabriel admits, trying not to linger his touch for too long. "You had a scar here."

"Sounds like a nightmare," Jack teases, clearly not taking it to heart. "I dreamed you were decapitated once."

Gabriel humors him with an empty laugh. Maybe it was foolish to worry, after all. But he swore that this dream had more clarity than he had ever felt. His dreams seemed to become more vivid and encompassing with each day, with each rest after a new injection. His body demanded rest while yearning for action. Their preparation for war never, ever ceased.

"You could still move, though. Just had no head. Had to like, find something to replace it with," Jack muses, peering through his fingers at Gabriel, who was lost in thought. "...Hey. You don't look so hot, y’know."

Gabriel is shaken out of his head by Jack's concern. He rubs a hand down his own face, fingers catching on his lip. "I'm fine. I came to make sure you're alright."

Jack shakes his head. "Same 'ol shit. Aches aren't really getting worse, at least. Just a constant. No thanks to our renowned docs." He remains unmoving as Gabriel hovers. His teasing smirk dissipates. "Are you sure you're okay?"

"Yes. Told you," Gabriel huffs, starting to turn to go back down the ladder. Jack waves him off with a fleeting eyeroll, clearly unconvinced. It was pointless to hide anything from him by now. He didn’t really want to. He wanted to tell Jack everything, truthfully. But more than that, he wanted Jack to worry about his own shit. His own pain. His own body. He was already shaken from that alone. Gabriel wanted to preserve whatever light he could within Jack. And Gabriel could handle himself. At least, that’s what his rank told him. “Get some sleep, Jack.”

He hears Jack groan in response as he sinks back down to his bunk. Gabriel wrapped up in what he could. The room was a lot colder than usual.

Admittedly, the lie ate at him. He knew Jack wasn’t sleeping. He could feel him thinking. Worst of all, he could feel him worrying, when that was against Gabriel’s primary goal of keeping quiet in the first place. Gabriel wants to hide, doesn’t want to hurt him anymore. He buries himself deep into the primitive, itchy sheets. So fucking itchy. It was so...

Gabriel’s hand instinctively darts towards his shoulder. Pushes up the hem of his short sleeve. He hovers his fingers over the spot, afraid to make contact with his own body. The thought was haunting, to be so scared and uncertain of himself. And yet, this was what he had come to. He bares his teeth in a wince as he delicately makes contact to the skin with barely his fingertip, ghosting. His entire body shudders. And yet. Nothing. The nerves there were dead.

The area was numb. It no longer registered as his own flesh. Beneath even the gentle stroke of his fingertips, he meets one-way contact. Gabriel rubs against it with gradually more pressure, still shaken with disbelief, though he discovered the patch three nights ago. Two days after their most recent injection. The big one, as they so affectionately referred to it, was the capstone of their first wave, and they were warned of harder nights than ever before. Nearly a year of endurance would come to fruition. Effects were no doubt to be visible. Those who hadn’t trained enough in preparation would feel it. Even, whispered in their fine print, fatally.

When he discovered it, Gabriel’s first thought was death. He must be dying, pieces at a time. So many of them were. The spot sits at the summit of his shoulder, right beneath the darkened tattoo, like a brand, marking him 24. It looms over the number almost maliciously, a cackling I told you so, reminding him that even for his countless hours of training, he wasn’t ready. Gabriel Reyes, the decorated soldier, bestowed upon the enhancement program, wasn’t fucking ready.

Amid the ceaseless wandering of his mind, the idle rubbing along said shoulder, Gabriel feels something. He freezes cold. What had once met him with dead lack of resistance instead surges in a wave, all at once feeling the stinging, gnawing sensation of an exposed wound, before seizing back into nothingness again. In its wake, Gabriel is caught off-guard by the ghostly kiss of what feels like a wisp of vapor, as if he left energy behind. His fingers are shaking. Tears are caught in the corners of his eyes, generated from the ephemeral sting, waiting for the pain to resume as it normally would. Instead, nothing. Numb again. The stray tears fall anyway.

Gabriel tugs his sleeve back down. It’s hard to breathe. Facing against the corner of the wall, he can see only suffocating darkness. He thought he had come to a resolution with the prospect of death, of losing everything at any time, for the sake of his job, his duty, for the world. But this felt amiss, like he had been robbed of something he’d been working at with everything he could possibly give. It just didn’t line up. He had done everything right.

He takes in an unsteady breath, as deep as he can. He has no energy left to build the wall up, to detach himself from this reality, when he cannot provide himself with a fake answer. With a nod and a pat on the back, a salute, a send-off-- the ideal of whether or not you make it, that it’s simply the necessary step-- for once, he can’t convince himself.

And thoroughly petrified of showing that to the one person who relies on him for grounding, as a pillar of honor and glory, Gabriel trembles alone.

Hopelessness gnaws at his limbs, it washes over him. He centers in on normalizing his breathing, he takes in air deep until he can hear it rush in his ears, the churning of the ocean.

In and out. High and low. Ebb and flow. He lets his body be carried.

Gabriel is lost at sea. His eyes are shut tight, his mouth is drying out with the gusts of salt. The rocking of the current, back and forth, then back again, courses through his blood. Though he sees nothing beneath his lids, he is content with the knowing image of the cerulean sea under his back. He trusts in the vast body of uncertainty, falls into its maternal caress and doesn't look back. Assuredly, though he drifts without aim, life continues beneath him undisturbed.

He is directed by the current, at its complete mercy, and Gabriel finds solace in his lack of control for the first time. It gives him space to breathe, to contemplate, to think about anything except for the next move.

He thinks of the vivid, saturated reefs, miles beneath his form, living and breathing systems. They carry on with instinctual direction. Naturally codependent, a structure without formality. It comforts him, feeling as if the balance keeps him suspended afloat.

Yet, his mind still remains plagued with doubts, creeping up on him without fail. The crystal waters now murky, the lush reefs polluted and wrought with decay. It can no longer support his form, suspended above it all. He is the final push. The breaking weight. In fear and uncertainty, Gabriel's eyelids breach through the layers of salt to finally, finally open.

The waters are black. Maybe they have been the whole time. The current no longer a caress, but a pull. He is trapped here. In his sea of tar, he is overwhelmed with the self-inflicted notion of it all, that he has stranded himself out here. Point of no return.

A voice is being carried through the howling wind. It is hushed with intensity, and evokes a warm familiarity in his gut.

"Gabe."

Gabriel's stomach drops. He didn't want Jack to be out here. He hopes to God that Jack didn't come out to look for him. Nothing can travel freely, gripped by the black morass. There would be no hope for him. And for what? Why would Jack give it all up just to find him?

"Gabe," he whispers. His eyes shoot open, again. This time, his senses awaken, and the memories of the dream realm quickly dissolve. It looks to be the same hour Gabriel was last awake, but Jack's in a fresh change of clothes, and seems to have been active. Jack gives him a warm smile, though masked by concern. "Hi. I snuck you an apple."

Gabriel tries to shake the clinging lethargy out of his bones, but still feels weighed down. His eyes are trained on Jack, who is hovering at his bedside and rubbing the back of his neck. He's undeniably concerned. Shit. How long had he been out for?

"Oh," Gabriel mutters, reaching his hand out towards Jack's humble offer of food. "So illegal. Thanks."

"Yeah, I know. I'm a rule breaker now," Jack answers, hiding his enthusiasm for Gabriel showing signs of life. "But, I wanted to make sure you ate. I know you might not feel like it, I didn't at first, but you have to, you're going to burn--"

"I appreciate it. Really," Gabriel hums, grazing the smooth skin of the fruit. He did appreciate it, more than anything. But in earnest, his haunting thoughts had robbed him of any appetite. But he knows Jack won't rest until he eats something.

Gabriel squints at Jack's trainers, evident that he already finished his runs, maybe even his extra reps. The thought of Gabriel being immobilized for that long hangs over him abysmally. If he missed another day, he’d have to be admitted. Gabriel wasn’t ready. "What time is it?"

Jack peers down at the sparse display on their wall. It was old-fashioned, LED. "About 1730."

"Shit, you serious?" Gabriel immediately feels more awake, more alive. "I've been out that long?"

"Yeah. I was going to leave you be, but, I assumed you'd be up and out by the time my training wrapped up, and, well," Jack gestures sheepishly towards Gabe's current predicament, wrapped tight in their uncomfortable linens. "I had to make sure you were alive. Sorry."

"It's fine. I'm glad," Gabriel consoles. "But please, God, don't worry for me. That's not your job."

Jack shoots him a glare. "Says the guy who makes sure I'm okay every night."

Gabriel gestures his arms towards Jack demonstratively. "Jack, you're in pain…"

"And I'm sure you are too. Listen," Jack puts his leg on the bar of the bottom bunk, lifting his knee up. "I finished early today. I was thinking we could walk track or something, maybe. You need air. And some blood flow."

Gabriel exhales deep, bending his arms to set both his hands over his eyes. "Sure. Yeah."

"Alright," Jack nods, still tentative in Gabe's agreement. "Cool. Trust me, you'll feel better."

Gabriel nods, grateful for Jack's presence, yet crushed by the thought of burdening him like this. He was supposed to be Jack's superior, to guide him through the uncertainty. Instead, he feels like a looming weight holding him back from recovery. He wanted Jack to thrive, and to never look behind. It wasn't his responsibility to pick up his pieces.

He swings his legs off the bed, watching Jack anxiously pick at the skin of his nails. He glances at Gabriel once he sees motion. Smiles. Always smiling. “Just let me know when you’re ready.”

Gabriel gets to his feet, and makes sure to tug down the sleeve at his left shoulder. Holds back a shiver at the unfamiliar sensation. That much was still real, he assures himself. This nightmare would follow him down.

"Eat the apple!" Jack calls after Gabriel, who waves him a nonchalant salute with apple in hand. He hears Jack snicker behind him.

Gabriel needs water. On his face, in his mouth, washing over him. He figures they’ll shower after track, so he settles for running his head under the cold jet of the faucet. He remains for a while. Still transitioning back into reality. He tilts his head, parting his lips, letting it course through him. This part of him was alive. He could feel his face.

His eyes unavoidably linger on the reflection of his covered shoulder. Curiosity tempts him to examine it under light, to see if it spread, if his skin has discolored. But Gabriel finds a small comfort in pretending it was just a vision. It’s the closest he can get to building a wall.

The water was shit. It was too cold, too metallic. It drips down his neck, over the dip of his collarbone. Looking up, the man in the mirror is dripping with fear. He rustles the drops out of his hair, cursing the sides that are overdue for a buzz. He had to take this a step at a time. He had no time for this. He needs air.

Tauntingly, the apple sits on the counter, misshapen yet full. Gabriel forces himself to take a bite as he leaves. He owes Jack that much.

Sure enough, Jack is grinning wider when Gabriel comes back and finally catches him chewing. Gabriel has to look away under his openly doting gaze. “Ready?”

Gabriel shoots him a nod. He pulls a hoodie up over his arms for good measure. Jack scrutinizes the decision as he gathers his tags. It reminds Gabriel to feel for his own matching set, meeting the cold metal at his chest. He thumbs over the imprint of Jack's name on one of them, and a pang of guilt slams into him for breaking their promise. _So we always have each other's backs_ , Jack had said months ago, switching their spares.

“You know it’s actually getting warmer, yeah?” Jack warns, though he’s already following at Gabriel’s side out the door. “Aren’t you gonna run?”

“I’ll be fine, Jack,” Gabriel dismisses him, holding the door open. Jack shrugs it off. He takes Gabriel’s word for most everything nowadays.

Out on the track, the air is sticky sweet and reeks of summer evenings. They catch the sky on the edge of darkness, ripe with orange and purples despite the heavy layers of smog. Gabriel is grateful for every breath, for this amount which he can escape the corridors and sealed concrete rooms void of ventilation. With the amount of high security needed to cover up the program, it certainly feels like a prison. Even around the field, stone walls tower the perimeter and cast shadows for yards. Their greatest solace is in the center, where when you look up at the sky, you can almost completely blur out the walls in your peripheral.

Jack is already kicking into a jog at his side, clearly eager to release his energy. He mostly jogs in place to not get too ahead of Gabriel’s tread, which is clearly in no rush.

“It’s nice out, right?” Jack offers, surprising Gabriel with its softness. Jack talks at his feet, but tilts his head once he catches Gabriel looking over at him. He nods in answer, maintaining their gaze. The setting sun is bouncing off Jack’s skin in all the right places, glowing with fire.

“Thanks,” Gabriel starts, quickly clarifying. “For getting me out.”

Jack seems to be distracted too, processing Gabriel’s words for a second before giving him the same nod in exchange. “It’s nothing.”

After a walking lap around the track, mostly in silence, Jack shifts with anxious enthusiasm. “Hey, Gabe,” he starts, a little nervous. “Can I show you something?”

Gabriel tenses. He thinks of his own secret, his own things to tell. The thought of Jack baring his number along his shoulder with a matching patch of numb, phasing skin makes him feel like a damned fool.

“Okay,” Jack beams, stopping in his tracks and clenching his fists a few times. “Just like, watch this. And tell me if I’m crazy.”

Jack looks around for any presence, and Gabriel half expects him to lift his sleeve. Instead, he bends at the knees, checks his stance, and breaks into a sprint. He’s off in an instant, leaning into the push. He has definitely been practicing. His form appears aerodynamic, moving with an effortless determination. He fixates on Jack’s calves, his almost mechanical strides. Gabriel’s head follows him around the lap in awe.

He wraps back around, slowing down in thunderous stomps. Jack’s out of breath, bent over in a huff. He looks up at Gabriel with an ear-to-ear grin, laughing breathlessly. Sweat clinging to his neck. Sticking to his shirt. “Hh-ahh, hahh… see what I mean?”

Gabriel watches him run a hand through his hair, damp at the ends. “You’re fast as hell, man. Been running a lot?”

“It’s the... last injection,” Jack is still taking in deep breaths. “It’s the first time I’ve seen a payoff. I cut ten seconds off my last time a couple days ago. After years.”

Gabriel whistles, longing to make contact. The possibility of Jack hiding anything else sinks in his gut. “They really warned us, huh?”

“Yeah. I thought it was bullshit,” Jack admits. He takes one more deep exhale, hands on his knees. “It hurts. Hurts to do anything. But when I’m running, it burns away just enough.”

He watches Jack stretch again, clearly trying to fight off an ache. “You should run, Gabe. I’ll run with you. I want to keep going.”

The sentiment sticks him in the gut. Gabriel doesn’t want to hold Jack back, literally or figuratively. And yet, he hasn’t tried any amount of vigorous exercise since the last injection. Maybe Jack was right. “Alright, yeah. You’re on.”

“Yeah?” Jack laughs, stretching his arms over his head. “Really? Gonna sprint in your hoodie?”

“You’re damn right. C’mon,” Gabriel swings his arms. “Let’s go.”

Jack, already winded, seems breathless in his laughs evoked by Gabriel’s enthusiasm. He bites his lips together to dumb down the smirk. “Okay, okay. I’ll try to keep up.”

They assume a stance in sync, toeing the lines in the ground as precise as possible. The sun has nearly faded completely now. The sky is left behind with lingering violet light. Jack still radiates next to him like the sunshine never left. He gives him a mock, challenging glare, a toothy grin. “Ready?”

Gabriel stares straight ahead. “Set…”

“Go!” Jack calls, sprinting forwards in the same breath. Gabriel lunges with him, feeling his lungs rush with air. He feels like he finally wakes up in that moment, after so much dreaming. The humid air runs cold in his throat once he picks up speed. It had been too long. He felt trapped within his changing form, plagued with thoughts of imminent death. For a moment, with Jack sprinting at his side, the pain really does fade out under the fresh burn of his muscles working. Jack can't hold back more breathless laughter, which gets Gabriel going too.

At halfway around the lap, he feels the surge hit. The same from the other night. A wave of the brutal sting of an old open wound. Like a gash that needed to be long treated was exposed to frigid air. Out of nowhere, amplified back up like his pain was on a dial. As expected, it's on that spot, his goddamn shoulder. He couldn't ignore it anymore. Something was wrong.

Gabriel can't hide it. He hisses through his teeth, his pace slows down. Jack catches on fast, adjusting his speed to match him. He looks into Gabriel's eyes, which avert Jack's as much as possible.

"Gabe? Shit, are you okay? What's hurting?" Jack gasps, setting his hands on Gabriel's back. He flinches under it.

"I… Fuck, fuck. It's bad. It's bad, just hang on, I just need a minute," Gabriel chants at a frantic pace. He half-runs towards the nearest thing he can support himself on, the towering wall lining the field. He props himself up by his elbow, but winces again at his shoulder making contact with the layers of fabric.

Jack is wide-eyed, watching him with a conconction of fear and care. He hesitates to put his hands on him again, not sure where Gabriel is hurting.

"Do you want to go to medical? It looks--"

"No," Gabriel barks, pressing his forehead to the stone. It keeps coming in waves, on and off, like an earthquake in his veins.

"Then tell me what's wrong," Jack answers, stern with his own fear.

He is backed into a corner. Gabriel thumbs through excuses in his head, he pulled a muscle, sprained an ankle, a scab reopened. His arms are shaking where they support his body. He knew this was a terrible idea. He doesn't even know what's happening to him.

The pain subsides for a moment, leaving Gabriel to take a gasping breath. He doesn't know what to tell Jack. His mind is muddled with pure fear and uncertainty. He paws for an excuse, until.

The vapor returns, creeping up cold along his collarbone. A remnant of expended energy. There's more than there was the first time. Gabriel shivers all the way up his spine. He zips his jacket up tighter, then looks Jack square in the eyes, still breathing deep.

"We have to go back. I can tell you but we have to go back, now," Gabriel pleads, surprising himself with his own desparation.

Jack just nods, hands hovering over Gabriel's torso. He's still not sure where to put them. He wants to be there as much as he can, but he's not sure how. He just follows suit as Gabriel treks back, silent, clenching and unclenching his fists.

Back at their quarters, Gabriel props himself against the shut door, exhaling out deep. Jack is perched on Gabriel's bunk, facing him towards the door. He figured Gabriel needed space, but looks attentive. Gabriel is focusing on his breathing, rehearsing his words again and again in his head. He owes Jack honesty. He had reached a point where the mystery would make Jack worry more than the truth. He takes one last thorough exhale.

"Okay," Gabriel starts, quiet. He approaches Jack's position tentatively. "You talked about the last injection. The biggest dose."

Jack nods softly. "Yeah. It was big. We… lost twelve so far."

A gnawing grip in his head marks him as the thirteenth before he can push the thought away. "Right. And it's changing you."

He nods again, scooting a bit to the side assuming Gabriel is going to sit. He remains standing ahead of him instead. Gabriel unzips his jacket, letting the sleeves drop to his elbows. He sighs again.

"I don't really know what's going on either. But ever since then, this…" Gabriel reaches up to his sleeve. He peels it back tenderly, as if undressing a wound. His mark, 24, shines bold under their flourescent light. Jack watches carefully, tilting his head a bit.

He lifts the sleeve up all the way, sucking in air when he feels his open skin. "Right above it. There's this patch of skin."

Gabriel feels like he's watching himself. "It's numb. Usually. It feels dead."

"Dead?" Jack repeats, lifting up to his toes to inspect him.

"I, yeah. Usually. I can't feel shit. But every now and then, it hits me like a truck. Feels like an open wound. And."

He’s shaking again, so unsure of himself, too confused to even explain it. “When it’s done, there’s like this fuckin’, vapor. Steam. Hell if I know. But it’s cold.”

Jack is obviously puzzled, still looking at Gabriel’s shoulder, where the skin actually hasn’t changed much visually upon inspection. He curses under his breath, feeling foolish. “I have to use energy again, probably. Just, hang on.”

Gabriel reaches for the nearest thing he can, the metal bar lining Jack’s top bunk, and lifts himself up by his arms. He continues with a few reps, his form loose and heavy with panic. He holds one lift for exceptionally longer, until his muscles tremble from lack of oxygen. On cue, it strikes again, making him land to his feet. Jack lifts a hand reflexively, reaching to help him.

“Okay. Okay, okay, it’s-- _ahh_ \-- so it’s searing like hell now, right? _Shit_ ,” Gabriel huffs, still baring his shoulder towards Jack’s side. “Just right there, on that fucking patch.”

Gabriel crumbles to his knees, slamming a fist to the concrete floor from the pain. Jack gets off the bed at that, kneeling down to Gabriel’s level, resting a hand at the small of his back. “Just on your shoulder?”

“Yes,” Gabriel hisses through his teeth. “But _fuck_ if I’ve never felt pain like this, Jack.”

Jack peers over his back, still watching the skin closely. “And it just goes numb?”

He nods, one hand wringing through his hair. He seizes up before the pain drops off and leaves him breathless again. Gabriel turns his head back, watching his own shoulder. “Yeah-- okay, okay, look--”

As if it’s a hot surface, his skin exudes a black wisp of vapor, swirling through the air like a doused candle. Gabriel didn’t know it was such a dark black. He laughs once in disbelief, watching the curse fade off his flesh with a phantom air. He’s afraid to look at Jack. He didn’t want him to know. Didn’t want him to ever suffer in the deliberation that Gabriel had been. He shakes his head, palm on concrete.

“So,” Gabriel breathes a moment later. “That’s that.”

He works up enough courage to look at Jack’s eyes, which instead of frightened read as openly concerned, thoughtful. His fingertips ghost over Gabriel’s 24, right below the effected area. “Why didn’t you tell me earlier?”

“Because this isn’t your shit to live with. We’re not even a liability to them, we’re expendable. Expected to die. We’re a goddamn clutch of newborn turtles, thrown into this shit, they know most of us are going to wipe out. So if I was dying, I didn’t want to drag you down. We signed onto that,” Gabriel admits.

“I don’t care,” Jack huffs, tracing the number with his fingers. “Gabe, you fucking idiot. You’re all I have.”

“I know, okay? You’re all I have too, so I don’t want you to worry--”

“So you could just not worry about me? If this happened?”

“I--” Gabriel gulps, shaken out of his head. “No. I would. I, of course I would.”

“It doesn’t matter if I know how it happened or not. If you strike out, it’s going to hit me. That’s just how it is,” Jack scolds, squeezing Gabriel’s arm. “So there’s really no point in hiding.”

Gabriel nods solemnly, leaning into Jack’s touch.

“And you’re not dead. You’re changing, but you’re not dead. Okay?” Jack offers a pitiful smile. He focuses on his stroke, trying to comfort him with words he can’t form. “It’s smart to prepare for the worst, but you can’t bury yourself before it happens.”

He keeps nodding, watching Jack’s eyes shift. “You can’t just…” his eyes well and glisten, which he tries to conceal with a shake of his head, squeezing them shut. “You can’t just give up.”

“I’m sorry,” Gabriel blurts, reaching to meet Jack’s hand at his bicep. “I wasn’t prepared for this. It wasn’t really in my realm of possibility.”

“I know. I know. It’s okay,” Jack sighs, rubbing his eyes with his free hand. He peeks through his fingers at Gabriel’s hand on top of his, squeezes his arm tighter. “I don’t want an apology, I just want you to be okay.”

“And I never want you to handle shit like that alone. That’s kind of the whole point of us having each other,” Jack continues, smirking as Gabriel’s fingers thread between his knuckles.

Gabriel feels another reflexive apology surge up, so he just nods in its place, feeling their fingers meet. They stay silent for a bit, captivated by the tender contact. His head spins, watching Jack’s eyes flutter. At that, he is overwhelmed with the desire to pull them closer, to speak without words, which after the nights of incapacitating pain proved to be their most effective communication anyway. Jack moves first, running his hand up Gabriel’s scalp to flow through his hair, reveling in every movement. His other arm pulls Gabriel up, closer, sliding them both up onto his cramped bunk bed.

Their eye contact is open, unwavering. Gabriel feels his dark, burdening weight of guilt and doubt wash away at their heels. Jack looks up at him with more reverence and trust than he knows what to do with. Before their lips can meet, Jack breathes warm against his skin.

“No more hiding.”

**Author's Note:**

> a very hbd to my sister in spirit, kiki!! thanks for suffering with me hand in hand!  
> also hi, i'm still alive! i have a sea of unfinished wips, but i felt that rare grace of inspiration with this one. since we have subtle confirmation that gabe has been reaper-y since SEP i couldn't get my mind off of it.


End file.
